


Multifaceted

by Esselle



Series: Modern Art [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Feelings Realization, Kageyama is a hipster, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Nude Modeling, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: 'Hinata has never seen Kageyama look so… ordinary. So soft.It's somehow just as captivating as Kageyama in his studio, or at a gallery show, but in the opposite direction. Instead of being in his element, here, Hinata feels like he's stumbled upon something secret.'--On a routine nude modeling gig, Hinata is a little (okay, a lot) thrown off to see a familiar face among the art students observing him.





	Multifaceted

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2017 Kinktober #3: Public

"Kageyama, let's watch a movie."

Hinata leans his head all the way back over the armrest of the couch so he can look over to where Kageyama is sitting. Currently Kageyama is at the kitchen table, one leg drawn up with his foot on the chair, hunched over his sketchbook. He doesn't even glance at Hinata when he responds.

It had been a good session, that day—Kageyama had decided to suspend Hinata with the _shibari_ ropes. And then, he had decided to kiss Hinata, securing him up first and then dragging his lips slowly over every bound inch of him, sometimes on top of the ropes and other times against the skin ever-so-slightly pinched by the bindings, where it was most sensitive. And then finally, he had claimed Hinata's slack mouth, buried his long fingers in Hinata's hair and kissed him breathless. The ropes and the tying always bliss Hinata out, but Kageyama's heat, his hands on Hinata's skin, add an element of euphoria he's sure no drug could achieve.

"Can't," Kageyama says, and Hinata's thoughts are shattered. "I have class early tomorrow."

All the air goes out of Hinata like a deflating balloon. The thing is, he isn't lounging around naked on Kageyama's sofa eating pizza for nothing.

The pizza is because he's hungry. And because Kageyama always gets them both dinner now, lets Hinata laze about his apartment after a modeling session.

The lack of clothes is because he really wouldn't mind getting off again before he heads home for the night. He's still feeling pretty energetic, not that he isn't normally, but being around Kageyama just _does_ it for him. Hinata isn't sure why—the aloof, brooding artist thing isn't normally really his type. Plus, Kageyama insists upon color coding his scarves, which he wears inside the house. The one he has on right now is navy with white stripes, so skinny it could double as a necktie, hanging loose around Kageyama's neck.

 _What is even the point,_ Hinata wonders, but he's long since given up questioning it. Kageyama likes scarves and three-quarter sweatpants and knows ancient feudal rope binding techniques; and whenever he touches Hinata, it feels like an electric shock jolting up Hinata's spine.

"Ehhh…" Hinata huffs in disappointment. "What class?"

"Art."

A typical response. Kageyama is not the most talkative or forthcoming individual. Mostly, he's just super, way too intense, to an almost creepy degree, unless he's waxing dramatically about some creative process or another. Then he borders on manic. Hinata wonders, yet again, why he wastes so much time daydreaming about Kageyama's hands and voice and eyes.

Hinata sighs, rolling over to pillow his head on his arm. He'd really wanted to stay over late that night. Maybe watch a movie. Mostly just be around Kageyama. Which is stupid.

It's stupid, because Hinata knows they don't really have anything between them aside from an odd friendship and a lot of swapped bodily fluids. Hinata hadn't even known Kageyama was still a student until a couple weeks into fucking him. In fact, he'd thought Kageyama was older than him, which turns out to be an incorrect assumption as well.

There's a thunk on the top of his head and then he's being jostled, as Kageyama shifts him so he can sit in his usual spot on the couch. Hinata gripes and grumbles, but the end result is that he gets to lie with his head in Kageyama's lap. He pretends like he's not entirely affected by this situation, even when Kageyama starts to trail his fingers absentmindedly over the crossing reddish marks left by the ropes he had tied Hinata with earlier.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" he asks Hinata at length.

"N-nope," Hinata says, hoping Kageyama didn't catch it, the little hitch in his voice. "You need me to model?"

"Maybe," Kageyama says. When Hinata looks up at him in confusion, he frowns. "Didn't you want to watch a movie?"

"Oh!" Hinata says, blinking up at him. That was not what he was expecting. "Should I—um, should I bring anything? Food or…"

"You can barely afford it," Kageyama says. "I'll order something. And you can just borrow something of mine to sleep in."

Hinata squeaks. "Y-you want me to stay over?"

"If you want to," Kageyama says again. "I don't have class until Friday afternoon."

"O-o-okay!" Hinata stammers. This is absolutely a first. He's never spent the night at Kageyama's. He wonders if Kageyama will want to share the bed, and his cheeks get hot. Even if he _doesn't,_ that's okay, but if he does, that would be awesome—and maybe he won't mind if Hinata is a little bit wriggly in his sleep, or if Hinata presses himself to Kageyama's warm, solid side like he's wanted to do for weeks and weeks. Is it creepy to wonder a lot about what someone might look like when they're sleeping?

"Oy," Kageyama cuts in roughly, "are you listening? I have to go to bed soon."

"Oh, right!" Hinata says, embarrassed. "Sorry."

He needs to get a grip. It's not really that strange for Kageyama to offer to let Hinata stay over if they're going to be watching a movie until super late anyway. And sharing clothes isn't a big deal when Kageyama is more used to seeing Hinata out of them.

He sits up, stretches. Kageyama's hands fall away from his body, and he feels their absence.

"I'll let you get to—"

Kageyama grabs his arm, and Hinata turns to look at him.

"I was just saying," Kageyama says, "because I didn't want you to waste time staring off into space. I can stay up a little longer."

He strokes his fingers across Hinata's skin in the most familiar way, and it _should_ probably be weird and unsettling, and yet Hinata can't stop himself from smiling. This _artist,_ with all his requisite _eccentricities._

"Cool," he says. Kageyama pulls him back down into his lap, and Hinata thinks that it's kind of okay, whatever they are. It doesn't make the way Kageyama touches him feel any less incredible.

*

Hinata is sore the next day, and unsurprisingly exhausted. He sleeps through his alarm and jolts awake in a panic forty-five minutes later than he intended to, scrambling out of bed. He's modeling for a figure drawing class that morning, and he is definitely going to be late.

He snags breakfast on the way, eating while basically running. He makes it to the college at five minutes to eight a.m., apologizing profusely to the teacher for not calling ahead, before setting aside his things and pulling his clothes off in a curtained area in the back of the room, where he changes into the light robe he always carries to modeling sessions. Even if he's a bit achy from the night prior, he's definitely not stiff. Besides the modeling gig, and the great sex afterwards, Kageyama always makes sure Hinata is limber before he starts binding him. He's berated Hinata for not stretching properly enough before (in Hinata's defense, he was excited to get started). It's a little bit sweeter of him than Hinata would expect, but he figures, Kageyama wants to make sure he gets the best results, too.

Hinata is about to scurry from the changing area to the to the lit dais at the front of the classroom where he'll be posing when he catches sight of himself in a long mirror. He freezes. His eyes go wide, as he slowly pulls down the the collar of the robe, and then yanks it open again to inspect himself closer.

He's covered in marks. Hickies on his neck and shoulders, teeth marks over a nipple and his thighs, fingerprints mottled over his hips and wrists. He looks like he got the best fucking of his life several hours prior. An accurate assessment, but not one he was planning on sharing with a roomful of strangers, certainly.

"Hinata-kun?" the teacher calls, a note of annoyance in her voice.

"Coming!" he squeaks.

He rushes out and to the front of the class, gulping as he speeds past the instructor, and turns to face the rest of the students, preparing himself to introduce himself despite the blush he feels coming on—and he sees him.

Hinata gets the second shock of his life. Because it's only a room _almost_ full of strangers.

Sitting off to the left of the dais at an easel, is Kageyama Tobio.

Kageyama has obviously realized it's Hinata, judging by the way his mouth has fallen open. There's no way for him to have missed that fact, not when the instructor already said Hinata's name. Hinata does a full double take when he spots the other man, not only because this is the last place he expected to see Kageyama, but also because Kageyama looks _different._

He looks like a normal college kid. The entire sexy, aloof, dominating aura, the unknowable mystique, is… simply not there, in the florescent light of day (and city college classroom).

First off, Kageyama is wearing sweatpants and _sandals._ He's got a scarf on (of course), but it's actually a proper scarf, and not some fake spaghetti noodle thing around his neck. His t-shirt is ratty and worn thin in places, and his dark blue cardigan is a little too small.

It's all new, to Hinata, who gapes at Kageyama as openly as Kageyama is looking at him. Kageyama has been, so far, any time Hinata has been around him, a lot of things: blunt, confident, intimidating, sensual, rude, passionate. Multifaceted, like a jewel, or a precise, beautiful work of art.

Hinata has never seen him look so… ordinary. So soft.

It's somehow just as captivating as Kageyama in his studio, or at a gallery show, but in the opposite direction. Instead of being in his element, here, Hinata feels like he's stumbled upon something secret. It feels like the reverse of when Kageyama watches him while he's tied.

The whole class is staring at him staring, now, and he jumps when the instructor clears her throat. Quickly, he bows and gives his introduction ("I'm Hinata Shouyou, thank you for having me!"), and then, before he can think too much about it, he strips out of his robe.

He fights not to react to the change in atmosphere that descends as soon as his naked body is revealed and displayed in front of everyone. He hears some whispers and some giggling, and he fidgets. And it's impossible not to do the one thing he was trying to avoid—his eyes flick over to where Kageyama is sitting and, oh, dear. Kageyama is looking at him so intensely Hinata is surprised his gaze hasn't burned holes anywhere. His eyes roam rapidly, clearly tracing the path of the marks he covered Hinata in the night before.

Hinata tears his eyes away, fumbles for his timer, and strikes his first pose.

Figure modeling is a strange thing. For one, it often requires being completely naked, while holding various poses of varying degrees of difficulty, without moving a muscle, for long periods of time. Secondly, in order to be polite to the artists, the model must be engaged in the moment and in their pose, while simultaneously letting their thoughts wander, so the physical challenge is not joined by a mental one (thinking too hard will show on the face).

So Hinata wanders. He thinks about comfortable studio apartments and sunlight through high windows and striking crimson rope. He thinks about the first time Kageyama opened the door for Hinata to step into his life, and the most recent. He thinks about how _weird_ Kageyama is, within the walls of his home.

Kageyama likes to watch subtitled documentaries about dead foreign poets. He presses flowers in books of verse and then burns the dried petals later, to make amateur art with the ashes. Sometimes he just opens the door to his apartment already naked, without a word. Has he ever done that when he's expecting Hinata, only to find out it's someone  _else_ _?_ The thought makes Hinata almost laugh, and he schools his face back to neutrality just in time. Kageyama probably wouldn't even realize he should be embarrassed.

The thing is, Kageyama is entirely too dramatic, and what's worse, he doesn't actually seem to be doing it on purpose, or to maintain an _image,_ Hinata thinks. It's just the way he is.

But he's also just a regular student. He's here in this college art class, in sweats that appear to have a food stain on one of the thighs, dutifully sketching away at a figure model with the rest of his peers. None of whom, Hinata thinks, are likely to receive private invitations to exhibit at prestigious art galleries, and pack the exhibition floor when they do. Only Kageyama is that amazing.

Hinata's timer on his phone chimes pleasantly, and he shifts seamlessly into a new position, still thinking aimlessly. It's good practice to have several poses prepared beforehand, and he can autopilot.

He's never really considered that there might be a side of Kageyama that's less… intense. And it gives him pause. This whole time, he's thought that maybe their acquaintanceship—the sudden appearance of Hinata in Kageyama's life, the shocking surge of connection and trust, the heavy eroticism and sensuality—was exactly the kind of arrangement someone like Kageyama wanted. It's like something out of an indie film or quaint paperback, something suitably, well, dramatic.

And Hinata has been fine with all that, he really has—it's exciting and fresh and fun, and he enjoys the thrill and the challenge of it. Maybe a little bit of the uncertainty, too. Those butterflies just never seem to die down. But there are other things he'd like to do (just to _see_ what it might be like, just out of curiosity).

Another soft _ding._ After the first half hour of the class, they transition from the more frequent pose shifts into poses Hinata holds for longer stretches at a time. He chooses a recumbent position, supine on the floor, his arms stretched out over his head, fingers reaching. He feels a little vulnerable, knowing Kageyama is watching him, but that he isn't allowed to watch him back. Hinata has always watched him back, and that's been another weird thing about Kageyama—he seems to prefer it.

He wants to go out to eat with Kageyama, maybe. They always order in, but what would it be like, he wonders, to walk to a noodle stand or a curry house or wherever with Kageyama, sit across from him at the table, clothed again but with the rope marks still tingling under the fabric. Would Kageyama wear sweatpants, or those weird red above-the-knee shorts that somehow manage to look good on him?

Hinata wonders what it would be like if he didn't always have to go home every night. He could make Kageyama some of that awful, bitter tea he likes to drink, in the morning before Kageyama woke up… come to think of it, he doesn't even know if Kageyama is an early or late riser. Hinata knows that Kageyama is an artistic genius, has been featured in actual magazines, and is capable of delivering multiple orgasms using nothing but his hands and some rope. But there are also a lot of things he doesn't know about Kageyama, like his favorite animal, or what he does when he's not brooding, or that he apparently owns a pair of sweatpants and a real scarf.

He wants to know about some more of these ordinary things, too.

The class ends, and Hinata thanks the instructor and students before donning his robe again and starting some cooldown stretches. A couple of the artists thank him on their way out, for which he is relieved—he wouldn't want his disarrayed appearance or untimeliness to have affected his work schedule, but people always say Hinata is a great model. Something about how expressive he is, both in face and body.

He takes his time, as the classroom empties out, wanting to give Kageyama time to leave without crossing paths and making it awkward for him. But when he finishes stretching and looks up, it's to see that Kageyama is the only one still left in the room. Hinata goes still, wondering what to do.

Kageyama isn't looking at him. He's staring at his easel, hands resting on his knees. His brow is deeply furrowed, and Hinata is beginning to think that maybe he should just get dressed and leave, when Kageyama's eyes flick to him briefly, before darting away again.

Interesting.

Instead of heading straight for the changing area to grab his things, Hinata makes his way cautiously over to where Kageyama is sitting. He can't help feeling like any sudden movements might startle him.

"Kageyama-san…?"

Kageyama doesn't look away from the easel. "H-hello."

Hinata can't help it. He giggles, and the sound does something. Kageyama looks at him immediately, glaring.

"What?" he snaps, and Hinata grins.

"I don't know," he says, instead of, _you're being weird._ He isn't sure yet what the weirdness means, or if Kageyama even realizes the existence of the weirdness.

Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. With a strange, frustrated sound, he starts to reach for his canvas.

"Wait," Hinata says, and then, more timidly, when Kageyama looks at him again: "Could I… can I see them? The sketches?"

Kageyama keeps looking at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nods.

Hinata comes around to stand behind him, and Kageyama turns again to face resolutely forward, staring at his canvas. Hinata realizes he's holding his breath, and lets it out slowly, so Kageyama won't be able to tell. In all the time they've known each other, though Kageyama can draw and paint and photograph and sketch, he hasn't ever asked to use Hinata as a subject in any of these other pursuits. He's curious and excited and a whole lot nervous to see what's on the page—see himself through Kageyama's eyes.

But it's not what he's expecting. Staring back out at him from the canvas is his own face.

Sometimes in pieces—his nose, scrunched on occasion, other times the bridge smooth and the tip upturned, the barest smattering of freckles across it, the ones Hinata barely remembers are there himself, most of the time.

His face, but featureless, shaded for his cheeks and chin and forehead, bangs falling a little bit messy. The charcoal sloping down to form his neck and shoulders, and carefully, delicately, perfectly depicting every darkened mark on his skin from the night before, in a way that... _heats_ him, makes him feel like he's starting to boil over.

His mouth, the hint of a grin, or his pout; he can tell which pose he was holding at the time because he tries to vary his face as well, but these seem like more than just art class expressions. The way he smiles over hot food, or the way he huffs when he can't quite reach the TV remote and Kageyama won't get it for him—those things linger in the curves of his lips.

And his eyes.

His eyes, everywhere on the page, filling one entirely so Kageyama has to flip to the next to show him the rest. Shadowed, lighted, dull, reflective, crinkled in laughter, open wide. How does he do that with _coal?_ Within his face, or alone on the page, all of them bold and staring and calling out: _Kageyama. Kageyama. Look at me._

Hinata spots something at the bottom of the page, cramped writing, a verse of a poem. He reads it, because Kageyama doesn't hide it. It's objectively terrible:

> _Like the back of my own hands, your body I memorize.  
>  _ _But I can't tell what you want, when I look into your eyes._

Kageyama is fantastic with images, but he's an awful poet, even Hinata knows that. He isn't good with words. _Kageyama is shit with words._

Hinata puts his hands on either side of Kageyama's head and tilts his head back all the way, so he can kiss him.

It's an awkward angle, but Kageyama seems to just—give into it, soft and wholehearted. Hinata nips delicately at his bottom lip before covering both fully with his own, feeling Kageyama sigh into his mouth. Hinata draws his tongue in soft strokes over his lips, then inside him, realizes the strangeness of being able to run the tip of his tongue right down the middle of Kageyama's in a long, slow line.

"Hinata—" Kageyama whispers. Hinata has never heard him sound like that before.

He circles the chair again, this time so he can slide into Kageyama's lap, bracketing Kageyama's legs with his own. It's not the first time he's been here, but it is different. They aren't hidden away in the art studio, but despite being in an open, sunlit classroom, it feels more intimate. Kageyama has nowhere to put his hands but against Hinata's back, but there's no grabbing, no demands. His fingertips rest lightly, and he stares up at Hinata like he has no idea what comes next.

Hinata slides a hand up Kageyama's thigh until he can brace it against the front of his sweatpants, and Kageyama's eyelids flutter. Not very surprisingly, Hinata feels him even beneath the thick fabric, firm and warm.

It's not so soft the next time he kisses Kageyama, mouths meeting much more expectantly, insatiably, as Hinata rubs the palm of his hand against Kageyama's cock through his pants. But Kageyama still seems so strangely and suddenly unsure.

"Are you okay with doing this here?" Hinata murmurs. It seems like an unnecessary question, when Kageyama groans into his open mouth, hips lifting into Hinata's hand. Hinata can feel his cock twitch in his sweats. But he's acting _different._

"Yeah," Kageyama mumbles, "I'm just—it surprised me."

"You surprised me, too," Hinata says, pushing closer into his lap.

Kageyama runs his fingers over the marks on Hinata's neck. "I've never seen you after," he says. "In the morning."

He doesn't sound like he dislikes this new phenomenon. Hinata leans into him, then, and when he whispers in Kageyama's ear, he feels Kageyama shiver.

"You'll see me tomorrow morning, too," he says, and Kageyama doesn't protest. "You still want me to come over tonight?"

Belatedly, Hinata remembers Kageyama never said he wanted anything. He offered because Hinata had asked, said it was fine on account of that. But Kageyama nods.

"If you—if you want to—"

"I want to," Hinata says, "and it's not because of the movie."

Maybe Kageyama might need to hear things as much as he has trouble saying them. He tilts his chin up and Hinata kisses him again, rocks himself in Kageyama's lap. Kageyama's pronouncedly dominant tendencies might have faded in such a non-dramatic setting, but he still kisses the same, still rolls his hips the same, hands drawing down Hinata's waist until he can grip his hips and grind against him.

Hinata rides him over his clothes until he makes Kageyama come in his grubby sweatpants, gasping as his hips twitch involuntarily. Hinata spills inside his robe, one hand buried in Kageyama's hair, pressing Kageyama's face into his neck. He's grateful he has something to change into.

They need to clean up quickly, escape before the next class comes through, but Hinata plays with Kageyama's hair instead, running his fingers through the soft, smooth strands.

"What do those sketches mean?" he asks Kageyama.

"I don't know," Kageyama says.

Hinata leans into him, brushes his nose along the tip of Kageyama's jaw. He doesn't want to push, and it's okay that Kageyama isn't sure. Not sure is better than not interested. But Kageyama keeps talking.

"I don't know how to…" He sighs and turns so he's facing Hinata, so their foreheads touch. "I do want you to come watch a movie at my place tonight. I think I'd like it if you stayed over."

Hinata can't help it. He smiles, and now he notices the way _Kageyama_ notices—how observant his eyes are, as he catalogues the upward tilt of Hinata's lips, the slight wrinkling of his nose, the way it makes his eyes squeeze shut until he's watching Kageyama through his eyelashes.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, "do you wake up early, or late in the mornings?"

Kageyama blinks. "What?"

"Like, what time do you usually—"

"I heard you, I just don't—" Kageyama starts to say, then reconsiders. "Early, I guess."

Hinata pulls back so Kageyama can see his entire grin. "I'm gonna wake up even earlier than you and make you _tea."_

Kageyama looks, at first, baffled. Then he scowls. "There's no way you'll get up earlier than me."

"I will."

"You don't think the sketches are weird?" Kageyama asks, so suddenly it surprises Hinata. He doesn't understand what brought that on—Kageyama has never cared about being weird in front of Hinata before. And that makes Hinata realize something.

"Well, yeah, they're weird. Kinda creepy," Hinata says, and Kageyama withers inward. But Hinata grabs his face in his hands, and makes Kageyama look at him, just like always. "But they're beautiful, too."

Just like someone else he knows.

As a fountain of warmth bubbles up inside him, he kisses Kageyama again and again, and Kageyama may not know why he's so happy, yet. He may not know how to say things properly, or be sure of what he's feeling, or whether or not he wants Hinata to stay over more nights and be there more mornings.

But he feels comfortable enough to be himself around Hinata, and that seems like more than enough.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to check out more 2017 KageHina Kinktober stories, you can find them all in **[this collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/kagehinakinktober2017/profile)**. 
> 
> The 2016 collection is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kagehinakinktober2016/profile)! 
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Modern Art Series by Esselle [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373375) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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